


your sleeping sixth sense

by mr_dr_felicia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Butt Plugs, Desk Sex, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Impact Play, Infidelity Roleplay, M/M, Roleplay, Toys, aaaaaaall the fun stuff, business man AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 09:19:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_dr_felicia/pseuds/mr_dr_felicia
Summary: All the breath is punched out of Yuuri, mouth wide open in a silent scream. His body shakes, held together by the bruising grip Viktor has on his hips, keeping him from falling off the desk.“I dry orgasm? And untouched too,” Viktor notes, a touch of amusement coloring his cold words.orYuuri’s husband helps him pick out a butt plug to wear to work, and his boss catches him jacking off in one of the restrooms.





	your sleeping sixth sense

**Author's Note:**

> this took too long but im so glad i finally got to write it!! i just rly wanted to write long-ass victuuri porn even to make me feel better about stressing over school so here it is. 
> 
> (title is a line from a triple h song called 365fresh translated to english)

Yuuri had thought he could handle it.

He’s done riskier things before—handjobs in a cinema, getting fucked on a hotel suite’s balcony, and giving head on the side of a seldom-used jogging trail. The threat of being seen had made his hands shake and his skin break out in a sweat, his lips pursing to keep his sounds at bay. But that had made his subsequent orgasms all the more freeing, his body slumping into a heavy numbness that seeped into his every limb afterwards.

So of course, the idea of having a toy inside him for the whole day made Yuuri positively _weak_.

His husband had been worried about it, but Yuuri knows his partner well enough by now to know how to eventually get what he wants, and soon enough they were picking out the plug Yuuri would use. They settled on a simple matte black plug, one of the first toys the Japanese man bought when they got together, the plug possessing a flat base that stretched into a nub that would push against his perineum and a girth that wasn’t painful but in no way could be ignored.

_“I’ll be so loose by the time I get home,” He murmurs, thumbing at the lightly tapered end of the plug. The flush on his cheeks is the only indication that embarrassment hides behind his sultry words. He looks over at his husband and smiles coyly, his eyes crinkling at the corners behind his glasses. “I won’t touch myself, so reward me plenty, okay?”_

_“Don’t worry. I’ll give you a reward you won’t be able to forget, darling.”_

Yuuri moans behind his hand, the press of the toilet seat against the plug’s base making it dig deeper.

He’s pulled back into the present at the feeling, his hands flying over his belt buckle and the fly of his slacks. His half-hard length tents at the fabric of his underwear, the shape of his dick clearly visible when he unzips his pants. Yuuri groans and palms himself.

This really isn’t the way things were supposed to go, since Yuuri is essentially banned from touching himself until he arrives back home for his husband to take the plug out and fuck him silly, but Yuuri couldn’t help it. He’s had the plug rub at his insides the whole day, and sometimes he got so close to cumming his coworkers’ constant presence was the only thing stopping him from rutting into a corner of his desk to reach completion. Yuuri’s cheeks burn at the thought, fingers shaking as he presses tentatively at the base. The nub pokes at his taint, and Yuuri gasps, not bothering to muffle his noises.

It’s the last few hours of his overtime work, and everyone else has gone save for his boss, who usually stays up the latest to finish up paperwork. Yuuri promises himself that he would be quick.

_Just a quick break, then I’ll pop it back in before—_

Footsteps echo against the tile. Yuuri freezes, his feet coming up to sit on the rim of the toilet seat.

They’re clipped and seemingly deafening in the muteness that surrounds Yuuri, the sharp _clip clap_ of dress shoes drowning out even the thumping of his own heart. They walk from one end of the restroom to another, before finally silencing when Yuuri hears the tap twisting open. Yuuri looks at the door of his cubicle, lock left unengaged thanks to his own forgetfulness and need to get off as quick as possible.

The nervousness that grips at his neck somehow makes him clench down on the toy a fraction harder, its thickest part hard and unrelenting against his soft muscle. A tiny sound tries to worm its way out of Yuuri’s mouth, but it doesn’t get past his lips, instead escaping as a puff of air through his nose. The tap turns off the next moment, and the footsteps walk steadily back out of the restrooms, the echo of them reaching Yuuri’s ears before they turn a corner and everything is silent again.

Yuuri lets out a sigh, the sound quickly becoming more high-pitched at the end.

In this position, with his legs spread and his knees resting near his ears, it’s much easier to see the where the end of the butt plug pushes up against Yuuri’s slacks, the soft cotton taut against the flat base. Yuuri pulls at his bottoms a bit more, his belt buckle clinking when it hits the floor along with his slacks. He still has his underwear on, but it’s easy for him to push down until his cock springs free, bobbing against his stomach and fully hard. Yuuri whimpers when he finally gets his fingers around himself.

He makes quick work out of it, his hand a tight ring around his length, the precum that leaks out of him serving as lubricant when he starts to fuck up into his own hand. The other hand’s fingers scramble to find the toy’s base and Yuuri cries out when he finally presses against it, his teeth hastily digging into his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming.

Yuuri’s fingers play with the tip of his cock while he fucks himself with the plug, his eyes squeezed shut. His hips shake with need, not knowing where to move, switching between shallow fucks into his hand and bouncing against the toy in his ass. He feels his muscles tighten, a wet gasp leaving his mouth.

“Well, now _this_ is a surprise.”

Yuuri snaps his eyes open just as he realizes that he’s left the door unlocked, the person standing in front of him casting a long shadow across Yuuri’s body. His boss stares down at him for a moment, blue eyes sharp and rimmed with silver eyelashes, snapping from Yuuri’s flushed face to the plug imbedded in his ass. Then all too fast he’s stepping into the cubicle, the door slamming behind him. And this time, the lock engages, snapping into place with a clean clicking sound.  

“ _Sir_ —!” Yuuri starts, hands shaking to cover himself. But before he can do more than let go of his aching cock, cool hands take hold of his knees and press forward, keeping his legs spread. Yuuri gapes. “Wha—”

There’s a muffled grunt, and his boss kneels, completely eyelevel with his dick.

Yuuri’s hands cover his mouth, his own precum smearing over his lips when he clasps at his mouth to keep silent. He ogles at the head of silver hair between his legs, and muffles a gasp when his boss tips his head up to glance at him through his one-sided fringe.

Mr. Nikiforov grins, eyes glowing and predatory. “Want me to help you?”

Yuuri answers in a heartbeat. “Y-Yes, please.”

Viktor Nikiforov is a few years older than him, a genius in his field and beautiful on all accounts, an aura of sex appeal always present whenever Yuuri sees him. Now that aura fills the atmosphere around them, making the air Yuuri breathes in muggy and smelling of sweat and sex. Yuuri bites at his fingers to stifle a shout when Viktor suddenly swallows him down to the hilt, the man’s palm nudging harshly at the base of the plug.

The fact that this is even happening is incredulous, and would be comedic if Yuuri isn’t currently writhing on a toilet seat with his dick in his boss’s mouth. A laugh still manages to leave Yuuri’s lips at the thought, sneaking past his moans and gasps.

Immediately, Viktor pauses and pulls off. Yuuri flushes. “Sorry S-Sir, I-um, got distracted.”

“We can’t have that,” Mr. Nikiforov tuts, and before Yuuri can realize what’s happening, the plug is being pulled out of him.

“Ah-Aaah—” Yuuri clutches at Viktor’s shoulders, feeling the widest part of the plug brush past his entrance. When only the tapered part remains inside, Viktor thrusts it back inside. “Hn _aaaah_!”

Yuuri gasps with each thrust, looking for air to fill his lungs as his back arches, foot kicking out when Viktor takes him back into his mouth, this time lapping at his slit. He almost chokes at the sight, and stuffs his mouth with his fingers, tasting himself on his skin.

Viktor hums as he sucks Yuuri down, his thrusts pushing the nub of the toy into Yuuri’s taint harder than he’s felt all day, the stimulation almost painful now. The older man keeps his eyes open even as he stuffs himself with Yuuri’s dick, blue eyes crackling when they meet Yuuri’s. Yuuri is surprised he doesn’t faint at the sight.

He’s breathless when he comes, hips thrusting up into the warm cavern of his boss’s mouth. Viktor milks him through it, suckling and drinking his cum until Yuuri is shaking and oversensitive. He whines when it becomes too much, and Viktor pulls off, a thread of shiny saliva connecting his lips and the head of Yuuri’s softening cock.

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby like this, Mr. Katsuki.” Viktor’s voice is scratchy and bright.

Yuuri coughs, and his cheeks burn. Obviously, no one would know about his strange kinks, and Yuuri knows he looks far from the type that would have any. At work, Yuuri is conservative and silent, mindful of the rules and virtually invisible to someone like the Russian. “It’s not a topic I can bring up at work, is it?”

Mr. Nikiforov hums in acknowledgement. “In any case,” he continues, breezing past Yuuri’s embarrassment as he stands. “I don’t think I can let you go home like this.”

The words are spoken matter-of-factly, as if Viktor is speaking in front of the whole office. But what stuns Yuuri into silence is the heavy sensuality infused into the older man’s voice. He tilts his head up at the suggestion, their eyes meeting, and his spent dick twitches at Viktor’s heated stare. Immediately, Viktor’s eyes are drawn to the movement, and the corner of his glossed lips pull up into a thin smile. “Does that excite you, Yuuri?”

The sound of his first name makes Yuuri shudder. Mr. Nikiforov has seldom ever called him anything more than his surname, after all. He nods: once, then a second time, teeth biting into his bottom lip.

Viktor groans and pulls him up to meet his lips, Yuuri able to taste himself on Viktor’s tongue as he licks into the man’s mouth. Viktor keeps one hand to Yuuri’s cheek, cradling his face softly as his other hand palms at Yuuri’s bottom, easily prying his cheeks apart and tapping softly on the plug’s base. Yuuri moans into his mouth, knees buckling. “D-Don’t do that.”

Soft kisses pepper the corners of Yuuri’s mouth before Viktor does the exact opposite of what Yuuri asks and nudges a knee between Yuuri’s legs. This time, he swallows down the yelp that leaves Yuuri’s lips at the contact and groans. “You taste so _good._ ”

“Ah—” Yuuri pulls away from Viktor’s lips to bury his head into the man’s neck, nosing at the collar of his starched shirt and suit jacket. He sucks harshly on a spot where the older man’s collar falls, a centimeter’s worth of space left to keep the mark hidden. He licks his lips. “You too.”

Soon enough the tight confides of the bathroom cubicle become hard to manage, and when Viktor accidentally slams the back of his head against the door for the second time, they pick up their discarded clothes and head for Viktor’s office. It’s clearly past midnight, Tokyo’s streets free from the usual traffic. No one else is in their floor, and Yuuri should know, since he’s spent a whole night here to finish up a project. The cleaners usually come later into the night, close to three or four in the morning, so it leaves the floor (and them) totally unattended to.

Viktor’s private office is neat, tastefully decorated and boasting a dark mahogany desk in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window. Yuuri spies the closed laptop on his superior’s desk, and assumes the man must’ve been on his way home before catching him in the restroom.

Anxiety wells up in Yuuri’s belly for a moment, then Viktor’s arms are around his waist, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses down his exposed neck and as much of his back as his clothes allow. By now, all their suits are rumpled and half opened, Yuuri’s underwear and pants tucked under his arm even as Viktor (only in his shirtsleeves now) works the buttons of his grey shirt open. He does it from behind, and with every few buttons, the older man grinds against Yuuri, clothed erection brushing past Yuuri’s cheeks and hitting somewhere along his lower back.  

Yuuri is mostly soft, but still he grinds back, a surprised moan leaving his mouth when Viktor accidentally tugs at Yuuri’s shirt too hard and a button clatters to the floor.

“Fuck,” Viktor swears, and his hot breath fans across Yuuri’s ear. He leaves one hand to open the last few buttons, while the other kneads at Yuuri’s hips. It stays there for a few moments, before moving lower. “I’ll fix that when we get ho—”

Cool fingers graze Yuuri’s dick. It’s whisper-soft and playful, but an electric pulse shocks through Yuuri’s body, a groan ripping out of his mouth. Yuuri pants, trembling with oversensitivity, and Viktor pulls his hand away. “I’m still pretty sensitive,” Yuuri explains.

Mr. Nikiforov doesn’t say anything.

The grin Yuuri feels against his cheek is all the warning he gets before Viktor takes hold of his cock, giving it a long stroke from base to tip. A broken gasp rattles out of Yuuri’s mouth, his back arching away from the Russian’s chest.

“Wai—” The word is shrill, and Yuuri’s voice cracks. “Viktor— _wait!_ ”

Viktor’s hand stops abruptly, but his fingers don’t loosen, and Yuuri sees now that his dick is half-hard—painfully brought to that state by his boss’s handjob. He whimpers.

“Was that my first name, Mr. Katsuki?” Viktor asks.

“Sorry, Sir,” Yuuri replies. He fidgets in the older man’s arms, and it’s the last thing he manages to do before he’s pushed forward, feet moving unsteadily over the floor until they reach the desk.

Mr. Nikiforov sits in his desk chair, blue eyes piercing as he looks up at Yuuri demurely. He smirks. “Tell me Mr. Katsuki, did your husband ask you to wear this?”

Yuuri knows what he means, and he flushes, hole clenching down on the toy inside him traitorously. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, not looking away from the neat lines of his boss’s slacks. Viktor hums.

“Not going to tell me?” Yuuri gasps when Viktor suddenly leans forward in his chair, a hand circling around his dick and a finger pressing on the plug’s base cruelly. “I think you’d rather I _fuck_ the answer out of you.”

He punctuates that by grinding against Yuuri’s thigh, erection easily felt even through his clothes. Yuuri whines.

His lips form the words soundlessly before he finally manages to say them. “I—I wanted to wear it. My husband chose it for me.”

Viktor lets go of his cock then, and leans back into his chair, face smug and eyes crinkled in the corners from the smile pulling at his lips. He tugs Yuuri down by the hand, and when Yuuri stumbles and lands on his knees in front of him, the smile grows. “So that must mean,” Viktor starts, hand going to his shirt and untucking it. He starts opening his pants next, and Yuuri’s breath hitches. “You wanted this to happen?”

“N—” Yuuri begins, but Viktor gets a hand into his hair and yanks his head down. He’s an inch away when Viktor slips a hand into his underwear to pull his cock out, and Yuuri swallows down a whimper at the sight of it.

Viktor gets a hand under his chin, fingers tipping his head up. The head of his cock nudges at Yuuri’s cheek. “You’re responsible for this.”

This time, Yuuri doesn’t catch himself in time and he whimpers. “I’m sorry.” He says, even as his own dick twitches with interest.

“None of that.” Viktor says, taking hold of his cock. He slaps it against Yuuri’s face. “Suck it.”

Yuuri takes one look at Mr. Nikiforov—hair disheveled, porcelain skin stained with a flush from his neck to his ears, and eyes just a ring of cyan around the prominent black of his pupils. He nods.

His superior’s cock is hard and heavy on his tongue, the tip sensitive and leaking when Yuuri wraps his lips around it and suckles, spit slicking the way. He pumps his hand in time with his mouth, lips touching his fingers. Viktor keeps a hand in his hair as he sucks, nails scraping against his scalp comfortingly.

The head of his cock is flushed and leaking, easy for Yuuri to wrap his lips around and mouth sloppily. He feels drool slip down a corner of his mouth before it runs down his neck.

“Mn,” Mr. Nikiforov sighs, stuttering out, “y-your husband must be very lucky.”

Yuuri pulls off, resting his head on Viktor’s thigh. “I’m lucky to have him.”

Viktor’s eyes soften for a moment, before the smug grin is back on his face. “Yet you’re here; sucking _my_ cock.”

Forgoing a reply, Yuuri goes down on him instead, preening when Viktor moans at the suction.

He keeps at it, both hands moving to Viktor’s hips when he starts to thrust them up. He feels the other man grow antsy the closer he is to orgasm, more and more precum leaking from Viktor’s slit. He whimpers, and Yuuri laughs, the vibrations making the hand Viktor keeps in his hair tighten.

“Don’t get cocky,” Viktor groans out, and he nudges Yuuri off.

Lips surely swollen by now, Yuuri let’s himself be pulled off and tips his head up when he feels Viktor tap the underside of his chin. Viktor presses a thumb to his lips, smearing the spit gathered there, and Yuuri lets his tongue slip past to lick at the edge of the man’s finger. It’s quick and would be considered playful if they were both clothed and decidedly less horny, but they are neither of those things, Viktor groaning as he pushes his thumb past the loose seal of the younger man’s lips.

Yuuri feels it prod at the flat of his tongue and he gags, breathing hitching as the Russian feels around his mouth. A possessive light glints in Viktor’s eye when he pushes against the inside of his mouth, the imprint of his finger visible through Yuuri’s cheek. “Think you can take all of it, slut?”

The nickname makes a shudder go through Yuuri, and he purrs. “Yes, Sir.”

Viktor takes out a bottle of lube from one of his desk drawers, clear but smelling of citrus. He drizzles an exorbitant amount onto his dick, fingers catching what dribbles off and spreading the slick all over. Light catches the liquid, making Viktor’s cock gleam in the dimmed lights of his office.

While Yuuri thinks over whether the thought is more erotic or hilarious, the thumb in his mouth catches on the bottom row of his teeth.

“Open wide—and no teeth if you know what’s good for you.”

Lemon is the first thing that Yuuri tastes, the flavor reminding him more of lemon drops than the actual fruit. It’s easy to forget about the flavor once Viktor’s cock is stretching his mouth though, the older man’s unique taste easily distinguishable through the lube. Plastic digs into the bridge of Yuuri’s nose as he goes down lower, his glasses still miraculously on his face after all they’ve done. He moans around the thick cock in his mouth, nose brushing the trimmed hairs growing at Viktor’s base, adorably blonder than the silver strands on his head.

“I’m going to start thrusting, okay?”

Yuuri breathes deeply through his nose before nodding, feeling Viktor’s fingers tighten in his hair.

For the first few thrusts Mr. Nikiforov is gentle, barely pulling out and always thrusting gently, soft moans leaving his bitten lips with the movement. Yuuri is mesmerized looking at him, eyes catching the messy swipe of his hair over his sweaty forehead and the short puffs of breath that leave his mouth. He swallows periodically around the man’s shaft, and Viktor meets his eyes on one occurrence, blue locking with brown and staying there.

Viktor’s thrusts become harsher from then on, hands on either side of Yuuri’s face, palms over his ears and nails leaving indents on his scalp. 

It’s taken a good year of practice with his husband for Yuuri to be able to keep himself from gagging, but even with all that experience under his belt Viktor’s cock still makes him gag during harsher thrusts, the blunt head of his cock hard and unrelenting when it pushes against the back of Yuuri’s throat. It’s enough to make tears prick at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision and wetting his glasses. Moans and wet gurgles echo around them, and it would make Yuuri blush and cover is face if not for how much the sounds seem to turn Viktor on.

“Y-You’re so _wet_ ,” he says, head tipped back and Adam’s apple bobbing.

Murmured Russian starts slipping past Viktor’s mouth and the words are breathy and light, stuttering with pleasure. Yuuri lets one of his hands skitter down Viktor’s leg to cup at his own erection, fully hard and sensitive now. He doesn’t let the hand linger long before he’s reaching back, delving between his cheeks to press at the plug.

Yuuri moans, and it’s loud enough for Viktor to look down at him, the heat of his stare easily felt when he sees the Japanese man moaning around his cock.

Yuuri is certain Viktor also sees where his hand is, but still he presses at the toy and he moans again, feeling every bit as used as a back-alley whore. Viktor’s eyes glaze over when they meet his, surely matching the glassy stare Yuuri levels at him.

Viktor grabs a fistful of hair right at the top of Yuuri’s head and pulls, Yuuri coming off his cock with a hoarse cry. “A- _Ah_ —Sir-”

“Shut up,” Viktor growls, the hand in Yuuri’s hair moving to cup his chin. The man’s thumb presses into his bottom lip for a moment before it delves into Yuuri’s mouth, hooking his bottom row of teeth and pulling his jaw down. His other fingers dig into Yuuri’s cheeks painfully. “I’m gonna come, slut. And you’re going to drink it all, right?”

“Yes, Sir. T-That’s right.”

Yuuri sticks his tongue out, chasing the tip of Viktor’s cock as the man furiously pumps at his length. When he does manage to lick at the tip, they both moan, Viktor going faster than before and landing a few firm slaps of his dick against Yuuri’s cheek and chin.

“Please, Sir.” Yuuri whimpers, gasping against the older man’s leg. “Come. Please come, I want it, Sir—I want it _so much_. I want—”

“ _B’lyad!”_

Viktor’s cum splatters onto Yuuri’s tongue in thick spurts, coating it in white before Yuuri swallows.

Some of it dribbles over his chin while a bright white line coats the edge of his glasses, dripping onto his cheek from the blue frames. Viktor swipes his thumb across the mess, gently feeding Yuuri the rest.

“That’s it,” Viktor praises. “Good boy.”

Yuuri mouths at the finger until his face and glasses are clean, his body light and twitchy by the time Viktor pulls him up. He lets himself be pulled onto the Russian’s lap, his mouth opening when Viktor nudges his lip with the tip of his tongue, licking into his mouth. It’s the dirtiest kiss he’s shared, the mingling tastes of their cum strong and numbing.

So numbing that it comes as a surprise when Viktor raises his knee to grind against Yuuri’s ass, a cry ripping itself out of Yuuri’s throat at the friction. His body jumps, and Viktor’s arms wrap around him unyieldingly.

“Aw, poor baby.” Viktor says, hand brushing back Yuuri’s hair. He takes off Yuuri’s glasses too, hands tender even as his knee hovers right under the butt plug’s base. “Don’t you want to be a good boy for me?”

Yuuri makes a hoarse sound of ascent, shuddering at the thought of being praised.

The sound quickly grows louder when Viktor grinds against the plug again. His hand falls to Yuuri’s behind, keeping his hips there while the other is busy tugging off his shirt. It comes off easily, and soon enough Yuuri tugs on the collar of his boss’s shirt, mostly open now and serving as another barrier between their bare skin.

Viktor lets go of his hips for a moment to remove his shirt, and once their bare chests touch Yuuri sighs, fingers dancing over Viktor’s skin and nails catching the sensitive nub of his nipples.

A full-body blush dusts Viktor’s shoulders and the back of his neck, the pale skin there a delicate pink that Yuuri kisses.

By then Viktor’s erection already presses into Yuuri’s belly, unimaginably hard and slippery from the lube still on it. Yuuri pulls away, gasping when he says: “I want it.”

“It’s not really your place to be asking for things, Mr. Katsuki.”

“But S-Sir, I’m already so loose—” Yuuri cries out when Viktor’s fingers catch the edge of the plug, pulling it out half-way before shoving it back in. “Sir—!”

“Don’t be a brat.” Viktor says, suddenly standing. He braces Yuuri in his arms before dropping him onto the desk, a surprised noise coming out of Yuuri’s mouth when his back thumps against the wooden surface. His vision blurs for a second before a familiar head of silver hair looms over him, Viktor’s eyes dark as they look down on him. “Now; what do good boys say when they want something?”

“ _Please,_ ” Yuuri starts, then breaks off into a yelp when Viktor moves the plug inside him again, his mouth wide open in a silent cry. “Vik –Sir, please I want it _so much_.”

Viktor’s eyes narrow, the littlest remnant of blue that surrounds his pupils growing ice cold. “What? Elaborate, Mr. Katsuki.”

Gaping, Yuuri searches for the words that would satisfy Mr. Nikiforov. He knows the older man is expecting something and Yuuri, as shy and painfully average as he is, wants to give it to him. He’s still looking for a reply (which is difficult since his mouth seems unable to form even the simplest words) when Viktor’s fingers take hold of the plug and pull it out of him, a wail loud enough to reach the bottom floor ripping through Yuuri’s vocal chords.

_It’s quite easy to take the tip, the real challenge comes when the flared part pokes at his entrance._

_“I’m gonna add more lube, okay?”_

_Yuuri nods, shivering when his husband pours more lube over the toy, the excess sliding between his ass cheeks. His husband’s fingertips are warm as they caress the insides of his thighs, coating themselves in lube before massaging his puckered hole. “That’s too much,” he gasps._

_“Precaution.” His husband says, sliding the toy in easily now. “So we won’t have any trouble pulling it out later.”_

“Wha— _S-Sir_ ,” Yuuri gasps, hole tightening around nothing.

He clutches at Viktor’s shoulders, writhing on the desk. Without the constant pressure of the toy inside him, his need to be filled grows tenfold, the emptiness unbearable now. Yet even as Yuuri looks up wide-eyed at his boss, Viktor’s gaze is cold, a glaring juxtaposition to the cock he grinds up against Yuuri’s thigh.

“I can’t,” The words slip out of Yuuri’s mouth, and he’s not even certain he’s speaking English at this point. His voice is embarrassingly scratchy and high, wet and pleading. “I c-can’t wait anymore.”

Yuuri doesn’t see Viktor pick up the bottle of lube, but when a finger prods at his entrance, it’s slick and dripping. He sets a punishing pace, the pad of his finger brushing up against his prostate with every inward thrust. “Hah—Not that,” Yuuri whines, grip tightening. “Put it in me, I c-can take it."

Viktor pushes in two more fingers, eyes widening even as Yuuri wails. “You’re still so tight even with that toy inside you for the whole day _._ ”

The cool surface of the older man’s wedding ring brushes at his walls, catching on his rim with every thrust. It reminds Yuuri that this man has a spouse waiting at home, just like he has.

A terrible heat bubbles in Yuuri’s gut at the thought, pleasure and guilt burning him from the inside. “N-No more! Please, Sir— fuck me. I- _uhn_ wanna cum on your co—AH!”

Viktor thrusts once, fingers slipping out of Yuuri’s hole a second before he buries himself to the hilt, composure splitting at the seams.

All the breath is punched out of Yuuri, mouth wide open in a silent scream. His body shakes, held together by the bruising grip Viktor has on his hips, keeping him from falling off the desk.

“I dry orgasm? And untouched too,” Viktor notes, a touch of amusement coloring his cold words. He speaks softly, but the slight tremor on his voice makes Yuuri squirm, still sensitive from his dry orgasm.

When Viktor thrusts again, Yuuri’s back rises, arching up into a curve. He can feel Viktor’s slacks against his thighs as the man thrusts into him, soft noises coming unbidden from his slack mouth. He’s drooling again, he notices.

Viktor groans. “That toy made your ass so soft, like it’s just waiting for my cock to fuck it raw.”

Yuuri isn’t sure he replies, but the next moment Viktor crushes his lips against his, bruising and harsh. All he can do is gasp and moan into his mouth at this point, but Viktor doesn’t seem to mind, his parted lips making it easier for the older man to lick and bite at. 

Yuuri hums, shuddering when Viktor tugs harshly on his lip. Even after his dry orgasm, the coil in his abdomen is still there, hot and unrelenting. He leans into Viktor’s body more, moaning when his dick brushes up against Viktor’s skin. “ _M-More_ ,” he finds himself saying, “I—mm, want more, Sir.”

The Russian surely leaves bruises when he heaves Yuuri up by his hips, flipping him over like a ragdoll. He’s placed far back enough that only his top half is on the desk, socked feet keeping him steady even as he whines at the loss of Viktor’s cock inside him.

But the man ignores him, instead picking up Yuuri’s folded clothes from the floor and putting them under his hips.

“Hnnn…” Yuuri whines and rubs off against the soft material of his shirt. A stinging slap on his ass stops him. Tears prick at his eyes automatically, a tiny cry lodging itself in the back of his throat.

“Impatience gets you nowhere, slut.”

“I-I’m sor— _Haaaah_!” The force of Viktor’s thrust pushes Yuuri forward, his clothes thankfully protecting his thighs from hitting the edge of the desk. His hands scramble for purchase along the smooth expanse of wood, his usually soft moans growing harsh and whorish. He pants into the wood, sobbing at the smooth slide of Viktor’s dick against his rim. English is impossible for him then, and when he opens his mouth to speak, he even butchers the syllables of his mother tongue. “ _M-Motto—Motto hay-aaahn-ku!_ ”

Viktor growls, the sound possessive.

He slams a hand on his back, pushing Yuuri into the desk’s surface. He goes faster as per his request, hips slapping against the stinging mark on Yuuri’s ass, the pain delicious.

But then he leans down, chest heavy over his back. He licks at the curve of his ear before he bites, eliciting a cry from Yuuri. His breathes tickles his ear, and Yuuri can hear the laughter and heat in his voice. “Faster? Are you sure you can handle that?”

“I can!” Yuuri pleads. “Please, Sir— _break me_.” It’s difficult with only his toes touching the floor, but Yuuri manages to rut back against Viktor, a moan he hopes sounds wanton leaving his lips.

Viktor thrusts back hard enough to make Yuuri scream, the hand on his back the only thing keeping him from rising off the desk. The older man laughs breathlessly.

Yuuri’s cries sound almost pained to his own ears, hopelessly loud and all encompassing. Every thrust has him moaning and when Viktor pulls out he whines high and loud in the back of his throat. He keens when Viktor spanks him again, his fingers grabbing at the burning skin and leaving little crescent-shaped indentations.

“Mh, you take my cock so well.”

Yuuri, even in his pleasure-addled brain, perks up at the praise. “L-Like a good boy?” 

“Yeah,” Viktor chuckles. “Like a good boy.”

Viktor’s cock rubs at Yuuri’s prostate with every thrust now, the touches lighting fast and incredibly good—especially when Yuuri meets him halfway, their hips slapping together loudly. Each time makes Yuuri’s cock throb and the tightness around his middle thrum. “Cumming—Sir, I-I think I’m going to—”

“Me too, baby.” Viktor says, fingers wrapping around Yuuri’s arms.

He pulls Yuuri up, his thrusts still pinning his hips to the edge of the desk but with the new angle he’s thrusting up instead. Gravity pulls Yuuri down to meet him for each one, his wails fucked out of him.

Viktor moans needily in response, kissing up Yuuri’s neck. He bites harshly a moment later. _“Come for me, Yuuri.”_

Yuuri comes with a broken cry, scorching heat filling his belly when Viktor comes as well. Eyes rolling back, his cum splatters out over the older man’s desk, stark white against the wood. He shakes so hard Viktor wraps an arm around his torso to keep him standing, the other one coming to encircle Yuuri’s dick. The last bursts of semen coat his fingers.

Pleasure rolls over Yuuri in waves, body going limp in Viktor’s arms.

He rests all his weight on the older man. Viktor presses kisses to his temple as he comes down from his high, kindly not pulling out even as his dick softens inside him. Yuuri huddles into him in response, suddenly cold post-orgasm and his skin sticky and cool with sweat.

“Cold?”

“Mhm.” Yuuri says. “Sleepy, too.”

Viktor coos, nuzzling at his hair as if Yuuri were some cute animal (which is ridiculous) and slowly pulling out. A shudder goes through Yuuri even then, small but all-encompassing. As sleep makes his limbs grow heavy, Yuuri sees Viktor examine his cum-covered digits for a moment before taking them into his mouth, a satisfied moan rumbling deep in his throat.

_“How are you feeling?”_

_Yuuri smiles, adjusting his tie. “I’m fine, Viktor.”_

_A look of concern still lingers on his husband’s face, but Viktor nods, quickly pouring Makkachin’s dog food into her bowl before setting it down in front of her. The poodle licks at his hand in thanks, and when Yuuri kneels to place her water bowl down, he gets one too._

_The plug digs into his prostate a bit when he stands back up, a soft sound leaving his lips. Viktor notices immediately, and grins, reaching a pale hand between Yuuri’s cheeks to prod at the toy’s base. “Let’s get to work.”_

 

..

 

Yuuri wakes up on a sofa. It’s the white loveseat in the corner of Viktor’s office, which is dim, a lone lamp left on his desk to light up the whole office.

He’s naked save for a thick blanket that’s been thrown over him, the edge of it securely tucked under his chin. He smiles.

Soft breaths come from above him and even without his glasses Yuuri recognizes the soft glint of silver in the dimness, his hand coming up to brush a fingertip along Viktor’s jaw. The man wakes, blue eyes clouded and drowsy. Yuuri sits up from where his head had been previously cushioned by the older man’s lap, leaning over to brush a kiss to his temple. “You neck must hurt from sitting up so long.”

“Ngh. It’s fine.” Viktor smiles sleepily, the kind where the corners of his eyes wrinkle and his mouth forms a soft heart. It also the kind he would never show other people. “We wouldn’t fit on the sofa next to each other anyway.”

“I’m fine now,” Yuuri says. “We can switch.”

There’s a bit of rearranging, and then Viktor’s on Yuuri’s lap, snuggling up against the blanket thrown over his legs. Yuuri plays with his hair as the older man falls half-asleep.

“Did the cleaning staff wonder why you were still here?” Yuuri asks a little later.

Viktor cracks an eye open from where he lay. “No. They wondered where _Mr. Katsuki_ was, though.”

“You could’ve woken me up,” Yuuri says.

“Not with you looking like that, _dorogoy_.”

It’s only then that the Japanese man takes stock of himself, eyes roving over the upper half of his body. The blanket only covers his bottom half (which is sort of sore to be honest) but leaves his upper half bare, and the weak light is enough to illuminate his skin.

Yuuri isn’t as pale as Viktor, but the light seems to bleach his skin, his arms sickly pale in the dimness. The finger-shaped bruises on them show up harsher than they would in real life, along with the bruises left on his hips. His lips are sore too, and when he sees Viktor he realizes they match, both their lips a little red and sensitive from all the kissing and blowing. His cock chubs up at the thought.

Viktor’s near enough to notice, flushing indignantly. “ _Yuuriiii_ —your stamina really is a miracle!”

“Thanks,” Yuuri laughs. “And don’t worry. It’ll go down soon, let’s just stay here for a while.”

“Fine.”

They stay there for a minute, and Yuuri’s dick really does calm down, before he realizes something. He leans down, kissing the curve of Viktor’s ear. The older man gasps, but Yuuri doesn’t know if it’s from the kiss or the fact that his dick is hardening again, this time pushing against the blanket and nudging Viktor’s cheek. “Next time you can try wearing bondage gear under your clothes.”

The older man’s shuddering breath is all the answer Yuuri needs.

**Author's Note:**

> im thinking of just making this into a series of yoi smut since it's all i seem to be able to write recently. come scream at me at my tumblr fic account writingturtledoves or on my art acc mr-doctor-felicia 
> 
> btw i don't think yuuri rly works for viktor in this verse, it's all just part of their roleplay since i'm not a big fan of relationships with coworkers in real life. i'd imagine them being in different departments at least  
> 


End file.
